


Making Space

by CraftyDemonite



Category: Delivery Caribou, Original Work
Genre: Caribou, Centaur, Centaurs, Comfort, Disabled Character, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Lovey Dovey, Pregnancy, Reindeer, Taur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26477380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CraftyDemonite/pseuds/CraftyDemonite
Summary: In their home, there's a place for everything. Blitzen is just worried they've already run out of room for more.
Relationships: Gala/Blitzen, Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10
Collections: Delivery Caribou





	Making Space

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains caribou-taurs. Gala is an albino and also blind.

The order is this: Butter knives, forks, spoons. Always left to right. Close the drawer gently so stuff doesn’t get rattled out of place.

Proper knives go in the knife block when no one’s using them. Don’t leave out anything sharp and always keep the scissors closed and tucked next to the wooden spoons and ladle and spatulas in the big utensil drawer. Shut that gently too. Be gentle. Always gentle.

Frying pans are hung over the sand stove, also in order from smallest and shallowest to biggest and deepest. Pots are stacked and stored in the cupboard next to the ice box. It’s okay to put the really big soup pot on top of the ice box as long as you wipe it down first.

Blitzen stops, a towel bunched up in his hands and his ears twitching as the wind and snow outside rattles the window panes. He tries to remember if he’s forgotten anything as the scent of baked goods fills the kitchen.

Are they done now? He glances at the clock, a new addition to their home, and he thinks it’s been long enough. He’s pretty sure anyways. Hang the towel back on the towel rack. Oven mitts in the lower right cupboard beside the sink, top shelf next to the folded hand towels and dishcloths. The bottom shelf is for mixing bowls and baking pans.

Take the muffins out of the wood-fired oven. Place any hot tins or pans on this countertop, not the other one. Come to terms with the fact that _again_ he left them in too long. They’re a little too brown on the top and blackened in spots where the batter met the pan directly. He’s not as good at cooking as Gala is outside of making soft-boiled eggs and preparing sandwiches, but he’s learning. Slowly, but surely, he’s learning.

There’s a lot he needs to learn.

But for now, he’s hungry. The plates are in the middle cupboard, lowest shelf. Big plates on the left. Small plates on the right. Take a small plate, retrieve a spatula from the utensil drawer, and work out one of the dozen muffins from its tin. Enjoy.

The outside is a tad tough and bitter, but the inside is hot and sweet and fluffy. Hints of cinnamon and nutmeg on his tongue. He devours three to try and quell the anxiousness built up in his chest and boxes up the rest. Breads and pastries ready for eating go in or next to the bread box. Oven mitts go back in the cupboard. Hot water and soap in the sink. Start from the top with washing dishes and putting things where they belong so Gala can find her way around the kitchen.

A place for everything and everything in its place.

Blitzen pauses in trying to scrub off the burned on patches of batter on the muffin tin and looks around, frowning to himself. What’s _not_ in its place is Gala. At this time of day, she was usually working at the loom in the den or sitting on the cushions by the radio and listening intently to her favorite shows or here in the kitchen putzing about as she waited for a batch of bread dough to rise, but not today. He tries to refocus on the tin in his hands and on the scent of soap, working through the dirty dishes quickly. The damp washcloth is draped over the edge of the sink afterwards. The towel is pulled from the rack. Dry the dishes one by one. Put them away. Wash and dry hands. Towel back on the rack. The kitchen is clean and in order.

But their home is not in order, not yet, and he trots past boxes and bags stacked up in one corner of the den that are filled with colorful toys and cushions and bottles and adorable little sweaters and mittens that they haven’t figured out where to put just yet. He tries not to look directly at them or else that anxious feeling inside might double in size and goes to the bedroom in search of his love. It helps when he sees that she’s in bed, propped against the sleeping table with her silken hair cascading down her shoulders, not braided or tied back like it usually was. Blitzen clears his throat.

“The muffins are done, love,” he tells her from the doorway, “But I think I overdid ‘em a little…”

One of her big, white ears twitches and the sheets rustle softly as she shifts her weight beneath them, trying to get comfortable. Already there were some days where she couldn’t seem to settle, no matter how many blankets and pillows and mugs of hot tea he brought her.

“I’m sure they’re wonderful, dear. I’ll try one in a bit, alright?”

He frowns again. She hasn’t had breakfast yet, even though it’s almost lunchtime. She really should eat. He steps forward, being extra careful as his hooves meet the plush, uneven surface of their bed cushions, and leans over to place his hands on her shoulders so as not to startle her. She still smells of sugar and vanilla from the batter she had been mixing earlier this morning right before suddenly going a little green around the gills and excusing herself.

“Do ya need anythin’? Water? Crackers?”

She tilts her head towards him, her lidded milky eyes seeming to be focused on a spot on the opposite wall. “Not right now, but thank you.”

Blitzen hesitates. Tries to think of where his place is if Gala doesn’t need him by her side. In the den, probably. Sitting at the coffee table and organizing delivery schedules or making copies of maps to give to the younger delivery recruits at the post office who didn’t have as good a personal library of such things just yet or maybe attempting to contend with the frightening stack of boxes in that one corner, but he doesn’t want to do any of that right now. Not when his porcelain beauty has somehow gone even paler than normal and is so listless and lethargic.

He plops down beside her instead, bunching up a pillow to rest his cheek on and throwing an arm around Gala’s shoulders and tugging her close. She settles swiftly and easily into the embrace with a contented sigh, like his arms were tailor made to fit her within the space between them, and he’s relieved to have found the place where she belongs today. They lay together like that for a time, listening to the patter of snow on the window and the distant ticking of the clock hanging a little crookedly in the kitchen.

“Yer awful chilled right now, love,” he says, tugging their plush red and white marriage blanket more securely around her shoulders, “’M worried. I could heat’cha some tea or maybe some broth? You really should get somethin’ warm in yer belly.”

She pulls back just enough to tilt her head up at him, trying to follow his voice to where she thought she should look. “You remember what the doctor said, don’t you, dear?” She asks softly and he’s grateful for her reminders. Sometimes he got so carried with himself that he forgot certain things.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do… It’s just…”

She smiles. “Our baby needs to grow and growing takes a lot of work. I’m only a little tired is all. A bit of rest and I’ll be back on my hooves in no time!”

He knows that. Knows how quickly she bounces back from illness, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying about her health, especially now. He draws his hand down her back and across her flank until his fingers find what he didn’t even know he had been searching for. Beneath the blankets and all her thick fur, he can feel the firm swell of her lower belly. There’s a calf in there and that thought alone is overwhelming. They had talked about having children before, many times in fact. Gala wanted to be a mother and he wanted it because she wanted it and now it was happening. Come spring, there would be a little bundle of fluff and hooves in their home and Blitzen was honestly a bit terrified of the prospect.

“I’ve been thinkin’…” he murmurs, “Been thinkin’ ‘bout… Where are we gonna put the kid’s things? Little clothes n’ stuff. Maybe the top right drawer of the armoire? Or the lower left so the kiddo can reach ‘em when they’re big enough? And where’s the playpen gonna go? And their bed cushions need a spot and I dunno if we can make space fer the bottles and kid forks and spoons and cups without movin’ stuff around ta somewhere where you can’t find it and -”

“Dear! Dear…” she laughs a little. Quietly. Fondly. “You’re fretting again. We still have all winter to decide these things. There’s no rush.”

She had said something like that in the fall too, right after the doctor gave them the good news. Back then it had been “we have until spring” and now it was “we have the rest of winter” and soon it will be “we have a few weeks maybe, if the calf doesn’t come early” and already he feels as though he’s running out of time, like an express delivery gone awry where he knows he won’t make the deadline.

“It’s just that it’s gonna happen so _fast_ … I want everythin’ ta be ready fer the kid and ready fer you and I’m tryin’ ta remember where all the stuff goes and it’s a lot ta keep track of…”

Gala is quiet a moment, her hand finding his chin and tracing his cheekbone up, up into his hairline. Her slender fingers close around an ear and rub it comfortingly.

“And you burned the muffins?”

His breath leaves him in a big puff and he chuckles, feeling very foolish. Gala was the one carrying their calf, yet it was him who was rushing about and nesting like a panicked bird.

“And I burned the muffins.”

She grins broadly, her eyes crinkling at the corners and her cheeks regaining their rosy flush that Blitzen adored. He adored every part of her, from the tips of her big ears to the fluff of her tail and especially her delicate hand that was now absently playing with his loosely tied back dreadlocks.

“I know our home doesn’t feel like much at times,” she tells him, whispery and tender, “When we found each other, I thought to myself ‘oh goodness, how will I ever make room for his coats and harnesses and those maps?’, but you fit quite nicely into all the nooks and crannies I didn’t even know were there and our home is so much fuller and happier with you in it.” She shifts again and he can feel the baby kick once, twice in her belly. It makes his hearts thump almost painfully. “So there’s plenty of space here for a little calf and all their things. We just have to find that space together.”

Blitzen stares at her, wondering how she can do that. How she can say a few simple words and banish his worries as easily as casting a stone would be. Suddenly, those full boxes in the corner of the den don’t seem so scary, not as long as she was by his side every step of the way.

“Promise we’ll find a good place fer everythin’? And that you’ll teach me stuff like – like how ta hold a calf right and how ta feed ‘em proper and what ta do when they cry?”

She kisses him. “I promise.”

\-----------------

Fin.


End file.
